We Are The Ones
by Requiem For A Devil
Summary: Not long after the events of Iron Man 2, Tony Stark vanishes off the face of the Earth. The Avengers Initiative goes on without him, but while tracking down the tesseract, they find him instead. Every sane person declares Tony unfit for strenuous physical activity, but this makes him even more determined to suit up with the rest of them. Rated for language and mature themes. WIP.
1. Chapter 1

**We Are The Ones**

**Chapter One**

Tony used to think he could call pain an old friend of his. Especially after Afghanistan, where he had been beaten until he couldn't move without hurting, almost drowned until he was gasping for breath even when not underwater, and had a _fucking hole_ drilled into his chest. Then in the iron man suit – and sometimes partially out of it – he'd taken his fair share of hard knocks and falls and been in more explosions than he ever remembered causing. So yes, Tony would think that he and pain were very well acquainted.

Understandably, he hadn't been the least bit worried when the last thing he remembered was driving in his car before waking up in a dark room, the walls and floor slimy with moss and not a window to be seen, the only light coming in through the edges of the door on the other side of the room. Pepper would be worrying herself sick and Rhodey would be calling on every contact he had, but Tony was of the opinion that once you've been kidnapped by the Ten Rings, you've been kidnapped by them all. He would be fine.

It was now a habit to look down or quickly pass a hand over his chest after waking up to ensure that the arc reactor was still in place. A habit he would rather not have, but better to be safe than sorry. He stretched slowly, rolling his shoulders and easing out the tension in his neck before getting to his feet and inspecting the room. It was devoid of any furniture save for a thoroughly rusted metal bench bolted securely to one wall and a slightly less rusty railing on the other. The floor was absolutely disgusting and someone had taken his shoes away, leaving Tony with a bit of a dilemma.

But luckily – or unluckily – he soon heard voices and footsteps on the other side of the door, and had a brief flashback to Afghanistan. Except this time there was no Yinsen, no calming influence to soothe the pounding of his heart no matter how many times he told himself he was _not fucking scared_ of anyone who thought they could bully him into doing anything.

They never gave him a chance to speak, the two men dressed in black who entered the room immediately knocking him to the ground with a flurry of punches and kicks, yelling abuse in a foreign language. Okay, so they were going to do it that way. It wasn't like he didn't have experience with this. Tony didn't fight back, just curled in on himself, arms covering his head, and let the blows come.

The men eventually tired of their game and hauled him to his feet, dragging him out of the room and into the dimly lit corridor. Stray light bulbs and exposed wires hung from the ceiling, and railings in a similar state of disrepair as the one in the room flanked the narrow tunnel. At the end was a set of stairs leading up, with only room for a single file formation. One of the men went up first, and the other nudged Tony upwards with a press of cold metal to his back.

His stomach hurt something awful and his ribcage felt bruised all over, but Tony allowed himself a small moment of victory when he reached the landing still standing on his own. The moment was very short lived, because the man in front pulled open the door and shoved Tony through, right into a bright hallway and a mass of screaming people.

Tony stayed where he was for a few seconds, dazed by the sudden light and sound, before he started to take note of his surroundings. He wasn't in so much of a hallway as a large room, and in front of him quite a crowd had assembled, and an angry one at that. They parted to make way as Tony was jabbed in the back again and prompted to move forward, but continued to jeer and shout in the tone of voice he usually associated with death threats.

They locked him in a room upstairs, tying his hands above his head so that his toes just barely touched the worn, wooden floor, and then left him there. This room was much smaller than the one downstairs, the only point of interest the peeling wallpaper. Which Tony couldn't even see, because the gap in the door here was considerably smaller, and the light from the arc reactor, no matter how reassuring, was by no means a torch. Maybe he would work on making that a possibility once he got out of here. And while he was at it, a clock too. He had no way of telling how much time had passed save for the increasing pain in his shoulders, and even if he could somehow pull himself up to look at his wrists, his watch had been taken away.

He tried to pass the time by sleeping, but was constantly awoken by just how damned _uncomfortable_ his position was, and kept awake by the alarming rapidity with which mere 'pain' escalated to something close to unbearable'. He'd long since given up on trying to get a grip on the floor, and just clenched his teeth with every movement that sent a fierce throbbing from his wrists to his shoulders.

The next time the door opened, Tony was barely lucid enough to register it. He was dehydrated and sleep deprived and couldn't feel his fingers, and the last thing he was going to pay attention to was some sinister-looking guy standing in front of him preaching. Tony gave the man his best 'are you fucking kidding me' look, but he supposed the effect was rather lost considering what he must look like by now.

He caught words like 'family' and 'murderer' and 'revenge', and a few other words that clued him in as to his current situation, but waited until the man and his underlings had left before thinking too hard about it. Apparently, this whole kidnapping business dated back to his escape from Afghanistan. But this time, no one wanted weapons or ransoms, and no one had ordered his assassination.

This time was worse. The friends and families of the men he'd killed in his efforts to escape wanted to avenge their deaths, and had spent the last two years carefully planning for this moment. This was worse, because there would be no stopping the innate human desire for revenge. He couldn't promise missiles or money to make them stop, and even if he begged them to kill him they wouldn't until they'd gone through every torture and almost-death they could orchestrate.

Tony felt surprisingly alright with this revelation. He would come out on top somehow. He always did. After all, he was Tony fucking Stark. Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.

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Reviews and/or critique would definitely be most welcome =)


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks for all the favourites and alerts, and a huge thanks to those who reviewed! ^^ Constructive criticism is most definitely welcome; my writing is far from perfect and could always use improvement. Thanks to Anon. for pointing out the issue of the arc reactor generating light - I had it right in this chapter but somehow managed to miss it in the last one x) Chapter One has been slightly edited accordingly.

-x- denotes passing of time.

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**We Are The Ones**

**Chapter Two**

He was okay when they finally dropped him to the ground and gave him food and water, which he devoured with a fervour he never recalled possessing. Seemed like he was still intent on living. It was only until help came, right?

He was still okay when he ran his fingers over his chest after a particularly vicious beating that involved heavy metal implements and discovered that all of his ribs were either cracked or broken. It made breathing that much harder, but every painful breath told him that he was still there, that he was still holding on.

He was still okay when they placed his hands on a table and took a hammer to them, starting with one finger joint at a time and working their way down, stopping short just above his wrists. He didn't even scream, just made some ungodly noises halfway between breathing and crying. He might have to let Dummy take over the practical work while he let his hands heal, and the absurdity of the thought made him smile to himself.

He was still okay when they learned about the merits of electricity as a method for causing pain, even when it left him sore and still convulsing in his room afterwards, wire-shaped burns all over his body. Electricity had ever been his friend, and it sure as hell wasn't going to change now.

He was still okay when they flayed his back and the soles of his feet, leaving the skin in bloody shreds and kneeling the only comfortable position to sleep in. After a while he figured out how to just slump in a corner and pass out until someone came to bother him again.

The drowning thing didn't even work anymore. If they put him underwater he would simply go limp and spend some time wondering whether or not now would be a good time to end it all. When they found out, they stopped giving him the choice.

He thought he would be okay. Just one more day, one more night, he would hold on until Rhodey or Pepper came for him. Then they brought out the fire.

They probably thought they were so smart, saving it for last. Flamethrowers had been a primary feature of the first Iron Man suit, and he'd killed tens of people in his rage through the town. Now it was all coming back to bite him in the ass.

Their first choice was to douse his legs in oil and bring a lighter close to them. He'd screamed then. Screamed until the sound echoed in his own ears and he could hear nothing else but the sound of fucking agony. Waking up was just as bad – upon discovering that moving anything below his waist equalled a world of pain he'd tried to stay as still as possible, then two bastards came in and just picked him up off the floor, and he screamed the entire journey downstairs.

Any bleeding wound was now cauterized immediately, leaving him with a myriad of burns everywhere. Sometimes they would just drop a match on him and watch until it burned out, or put out a cigarette or cigar on a previously unmarked area of skin. Those were becoming increasingly rare if not entirely inexistent, and it got to the point where he could barely move on his own anymore that they would just leave him where he was when they got bored.

-x-

He'd been in the room with the tv for a while now. He hadn't physically seen the tv, but deduced there was one above his head somewhere by the sound and the glow it cast on the floor. He'd also been lying on his right side for a while, unwilling to take the effort and bear the pain of rolling over into a different position. He couldn't even bring himself to look up at the faces of the people who walked by him, instead staring at their shoes and bare feet.

They left him alone for a while too. Sometimes a form of sustenance would appear by his head or a passerby would give him a casual kick, but mostly he was left to wallow in his own pain and misery. His captors carried out their lives around him, gathering on the couches to watch television, eat dinner, and play games. The normalcy of it all was mocking him, he was sure of it.

He was also sure that he was slowly losing his mind. My name is Tony Stark. He made it a point to say to himself at least once a day. Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. That part made him laugh, but nowadays it came out as more of a hoarse coughing. Virginia Potts and James Rhodes. His two favourite people in the world, the two people he would give the world for to see before he died. And Jarvis and Dummy and You and Butterfingers. His loyal creations, as close to his heart as children were to their parents.

Sometimes he entertained himself with thoughts of how many people would really miss him. Miss him for who he was, not what he'd done. That number was depressingly low, and planning his own funeral a little too morbid, so instead he drew up plans in his head. Renovations, improvements, code upgrades, new inventions. When he got back, he'd revisit his old goals of creating sustainable energy, and one day Stark Tower would be powered by an underwater arc reactor.

In the dark, the familiar blue light of the arc reactor helped him hold on to reality, no matter how hard he wished to be away from it all. He'd spotted a hairline fracture almost straight through the middle, but other than that they'd left it well alone, not wishing for his life to be over before they said it could be. He wasn't ready to beg for death yet, something in the back of his mind telling him there was still more to come. The more active part of his brain said it was likely to be more pain, and another asked why nobody had come for him. Soon, the back part said, just wait.

-x-

It must have been winter, because now in the nights he would shiver violently despite the ragged, threadbare blanket they'd tossed over him a while back. That would mean he had gone missing over six months ago, and no one had found him yet. Was he even still in America? Were they hiding him in some faraway hole, or in some glaringly obvious place right under the nose of the government? He hadn't seen a single window since arriving, let alone looked out of one.

He was back in his old room curled up awkwardly in a corner trying to avoid putting weight on the worst of his injuries when he heard shouting and crashing from downstairs. It sounded like a fight had broken out, but he didn't give it much thought because that sort of thing happened all the time. It did sound a lot more violent though, and by the time the door to his room burst open, he'd correctly deduced that it wasn't a normal fight.

The figure framed in the doorway looked very familiar despite his impaired vision, blurry and bloody from one too many knocks to the head. It was a man, that much he could see. He approached Tony slowly and crouched in front of him, speaking in a low voice.

"What's your name?" He asked.

Tony could have smiled. He'd been practicing this forever.

"Tony Stark." He said.

The man inhaled sharply.

"Anthony?"

He moved closer, and his name was just on the tip of Tony's tongue.

"Please don't call me that." Tony mumbled as he felt arms go around his knees and shoulders. He stifled what would have been a loud groan at the touch, and suddenly found himself at eye level with a very distinctive shade of blue. Shit, this wouldn't happen to be Captain Am-

"I'm Steve."

Good god, it was. What was he doing here?

"I'm Tony." His mouth said of its own volition. "And I want a cheeseburger."

* * *

Quick poll - are chapters this length alright, or would everyone prefer longer chapters? Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

Sorry this chapter isn't much longer, but I didn't want to stuff it full of useless dialogue xD This story is will be mirrored at AO3 if anyone prefers reading it there. Also, I might be looking into getting a beta reader. Any recommendations? Offers?

* * *

**We Are the Ones**

**Chapter 3**

"No cheeseburger?"

Tony smiled faintly as Pepper jumped at the sound of his voice, straightening in her chair by his bedside, eyes darting around the room.

"Tony!" She exclaimed when she saw his eyes were open.

"Hey." He said softly.

Pepper looked torn between bursting into tears or crushing him in a hug, tentatively reaching out and withdrawing her hand, the small crease between her eyes all the while getting more pronounced.

"I'm not going to fall apart if you touch me, you know." Tony said. God, his throat hurt.

Apparently that was exactly what Pepper was waiting for, because she threw her arms around him – gently, though – and gave him one of her hysterical talking-tos about never frightening her like that ever again.

"Hey, I didn't _ask_ to get kidnapped!" He protested weakly. "And you never answered my question."

"The doctor said no."

"And I suppose you thought he was right, otherwise I would have a cheeseburger right now."

"Yes."

There it was. The 'just do what we say because we know what's best for you, Tony' attitude. He knew it would be coming sooner or later.

"I'm fine." Tony said with more annoyance then he had meant to.

"You should rest."

Pepper was on the verge of being condescending and Tony was about to tell her to stop babying him, but she kissed his forehead and stroked his hair, and the comforting motion soon sent him to sleep.

The next day, Rhodey dropped by for a few hours, given special leave from whichever secret place he'd been.

"Man, you look like shit." Was the first thing he said when he came into the room. With a big grin and everything that Tony mirrored back at him.

"Wish I could say 'I've been worse'." Tony said hoarsely, his throat still sore from having a rubber tube down it while he was unconscious.

"I sure don't. This is bad enough for me."

Rhodey sat down in Pepper's temporarily vacated chair – Tony had banished her home to shower and sleep before coming back – and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs.

"So tell me about it."

"They wanted revenge for Afghanistan. For killing their families."

"They're terrorists, Tony! Don't tell me you feel guilty."

Rhodey looked outraged; Tony turned away for a brief moment.

"I probably shouldn't have killed them. Sure they were using my weapons to kill Americans, but two wrongs don't make a right."

"Neither do three! Don't you dare defend then after what they did to you."

"They were angry. I was angry. Guess we can call it even?"

"Damn it, Tony!" Rhodey slammed his hand down on the bed. "Of all the times to be selfless and forgiving, you had to pick the worst one."

"Selfless and forgiving?" Tony grinned. "Don't worry, it won't last very long."

Rhodey shook his head.

"You… just take care of yourself, alright?"

"Always, Rhodes."

His next visitor was Agent Coulson – Pepper called him Phil and Tony raised an eyebrow – who spent a good half a minute staring at Tony while Tony stared back before taking a seat and opening the folder he was carrying.

"Let me guess," Tony said before he could even begin talking, "I'm still not invited to your party."

Coulson shut the folder.

"No, Mr Stark, you are not."

"Then why are you here? You didn't even bring me flowers."

Ever since news of his return had reached the ears of the public, there had been a neverending stream of cards and presents; Pepper had to arrange for them to be delivered to Stark Tower instead because there was simply no room. But he did veto the idea of starting a botanical garden with all the flowers he'd received, instead telling her to distribute them amongst the other residents of the hospital.

"We thought you would like to know more about the people who rescued you. But if you're not interested, I guess I could go."

"Wait, wait, who is 'we'?"

Coulson reached into his folder and pulled out a bundle of papers, tossing it onto his bed. Stapled to the top left corner was a picture of Captain Steve Rogers. The next was Doctor Bruce Banner. Then Thor Odinson, the demigod. Then –

"Whoa, what? My assistant's assistant gets to be an Avenger but I don't?"

Tony glared balefully at the picture of Natasha Romanoff. Call him childish – and many people did – but he still wasn't ready to forgive her for last time.

"I believe you made Miss Potts CEO of Stark Industries, and Agent Romanoff –"

"Technicalities, Phil." Tony cut him off, rolling his eyes.

Coulson fixed him with a calm and steady stare, and Tony knew what was coming next. He threw an arm over his eyes.

"Mr Stark, I'm not sure if you've noticed, but there is a possibility you might just not be up to participating in the next battle that comes around."

"I have a high tech suit of armour, your argument is invalid. Next." Tony said with as much boredom as he could muster.

He removed his arm and looked over at Coulson. The agent's lips thinned, but he threw another file onto the bed.

"Agent Clint Barton." He said. "Master marksman, also known as Hawkeye."

"Also previously mind-controlled by Loki." Tony added.

Coulson gave him a sharp look.

"Where did you hear that?"

"…Not from Pepper." Tony said quickly. He could have sworn that Coulson looked relieved. "Honestly, where do you think I heard it? I haven't been allowed any visitors besides Pepper, Rhodey, and Happy. Rhoday's gone back to his terrorist-fighting, and Happy stayed long enough to mumble something about him being happy to see me."

"It's just… a security breach would be most inconvenient at the moment."

Coulson was unnaturally composed – but then again, when was he not – as he gathered up the files and put them back in the folder.

"You need me." Tony said. "You can't keep me away."

"You should rest, Mr Stark. I'll be sure to send you flowers."

Tony tried to wheedle more information out of Pepper, but she refused to tell him anything about the current situation lest he try to involve himself. She did ask if he would like to meet Captain Rogers, but after the initial surprise had worn off, Tony wasn't particularly keen on the idea of seeing one of his father's old friends. It would be Howard this and Howard that, and he just didn't want to deal with that right now.

Nurses came in frequently to change his bandages and check his vitals, administering antibiotics and supplements trying to make him look less like a half-alive corpse climbed out of a fire and more like a human being. He demanded to be brought a mirror a few hours after waking up, and kept it on his bedside table where he could see it. It had been a shock at first, but that was only to be expected. Someone had shaved off his facial hair – and half his left eyebrow when they had to put stitches in; he really wished they'd taken it all off, and the right one too so it would at least be even – and cut his hair in an effort to make him look presentable, but there was no hiding from the unnatural thinness of his face or the horrible haunted look in his eyes. Every day he looked in the mirror, and every day he allowed himself to believe he was getting better.

The media had not been allowed anywhere near the hospital, although whenever he turned on the news there would always be speculations of his current physical and mental state. There was no mention of exactly _who_ had rescued him, most likely courtesy of SHIELD. A few journalists did try to congregate outside Stark Tower to wait for Pepper, but she told him that they were all scared off after Happy drove the car straight at them. Good old Happy, always ready to smash things with cars.

"I want to go home." Tony grumbled not for the first time since he'd arrived. "Why can't I go home? Well maybe not 'home' home because California is pretty far away, but not even to the tower? I'm sick of this place and I want to leave. I should be allowed to do that, right? I'm a famous billionaire Pepper, why won't they let me leave?"

"Because I said they couldn't." Pepper said nonchalantly.

"But I'm fine! I'm not dying – never was, anyway, just a bit banged up – and I can get better at home. You can't keep me here, Pepper."

"It's better for you to be here where you have medical help at hand if anything happens."

"If _what_ happens? I don't want their damned medical help, Pepper!"

"What do you want, then?"

Pepper was completely unfazed by his growing frustration, which made Tony feel a little guilty for lashing out at her, and prompted him to think a little more seriously.

"I want Jarvis." He said eventually. "This place is miserable."

It was one thing to talk to one's AI – who had more intelligence than your average human being thank you very much and not nearly as annoying – but another to talk to an empty hospital room and expect an answer. Tony had missed that snarky, British voice of Jarvis', ever present and liable to make comments about anything at any given time, always ready with the answers to his questions, all too happy to take Pepper's word over his and switch out the coffee for decaf.

"I did offer to bring him in for you." Pepper said.

"It's not the same, Pepper." Tony sighed.

The doctors had to break his fingers and hands again in order to re-set them properly, and currently, holding anything was near impossible, let alone maneuvering the tiny keys on a laptop or a touchscreen.

"I swear I will go crazy if you leave me in here one more day." Tony turned his best pleading look on her, and could see Pepper being slowly convinced.

"I'll talk to your doctor."


	4. Chapter 4

So sorry for not updating Dx I had exams and assessments and whatnot, but I'm on holidays for two weeks so I'll hopefully be able to get some more writing done. I did get a beta, though =) Thanks heaps to Anan Nikoleta for all her help and suggestions!

* * *

**We Are The Ones**

**Chapter 4**

And that was how Tony found himself being wheeled into Stark Tower on a Sunday morning, greeted at the door by a cool, almost unconcerned "Welcome home, sir."

"Miss me, Jarvis?" Tony asked with a grin, looking up into one of the cameras as he passed underneath it into the elevator.

"Not at all, sir."

"I want Dummy, You, and Butterfingers flown here from Malibu. Looks like we're going to be here for a while, and I'm gonna need all the help I can get."

"Of course, sir."

"Jarvis, I don't want you letting Tony down into the lab until I say so, understand?" Pepper said, pressing the button to close the elevator doors.

"Yes, Miss Potts."

"Hey! Aren't _my _orders top priority around here?"

"My primary protocol is to ensure your safety and wellbeing, sir. In this case, I predict that following Miss Potts' orders will lead to a lower probability of disaster happening."

"Disaster?" Tony asked, offended. "Let's be fair now. The worst thing that I've done in the lab is almost destroy half of it trying to create a new element. And, if you care to notice, I came out of that completely unscathed. Doing that helped me get better, in fact. So I don't see what you two are complaining about."

The elevator doors pinged open.

"That may have been the biggest disaster in terms of cost, but you've had plenty others which were just as bad damage-wise." Pepper said, pushing him into the living room and parking him in front of the tv. "Need I bring up all the improvements you made to your iron man suit?" She walked over to the kitchen and poured out a glass of wine. "And tested them on _yourself_?" The glass was emptied and refilled.

In a moment of rare and spontaneous wisdom, Tony kept his mouth shut. Pepper only drank so liberally in two situations – on special occasions, and when things got stressful. Sure him coming home was a special enough occasion, but judging by the way the wine bottle was already half empty, Tony decided it was the latter.

"Alright, I promise to be good so long as you don't get mad, okay?"

"No going to the lab."

"Of course not."

"No leaving the house alone."

"Tower, actually, but really?"

"Yes, really."

Tony pulled a face.

"Alright, fair enough. Anything else?"

Pepper was contemplative for a moment.

"Just… take it easy, alright? I'll handle all the meetings, the paperwork –"

"You mean you'll run the company, like you have for over a year?" Tony interrupted with a grin. 'Sounds good to me."

Pepper stayed with him the whole day, and the two of them watched movies and ordered takeout until the sky grew dark and New York City lit up.

"I'm going to have to go tomorrow. Are you –"

Pepper stopped, biting her bottom lip tentatively.

"I'll be fine." Tony said dismissively. "Jarvis and I will play video games."

"If you need anything –"

"I'll call. Promise."

Tony gave her one of his smiles, but Pepper didn't look too convinced. Probably because she knew that Jarvis would call her before he would.

"I'll be sure to quote you on that when you don't." She said.

In Tony's opinion, getting into bed that night should have involved more painkillers. He was sweating profusely and clutching tightly at the sheets by the time he was fully out of the wheelchair, trying to block out the pain that was _oh God everywhere _and couldn't even imagine what it would be like getting up in the morning.

"You're going to have to help me up before you go tomorrow." He told Pepper when she came back with a damp cloth, almost regretting it when her expression changed to worried.

"Are you _sure_ you'll be okay by yourself?"

"Yes, yes." Tony said impatiently. "It's just that getting out of bed is a challenge I'm not quite ready to take on by myself yet. I'm actually _asking_ for your help, and you know what's funny, Pepper? Every time I try to do something responsible or something that makes sense, you always call me out on it. What is up with that? I mean, what –"

"Tony." Pepper said serenely, cutting him off.

"Yes, honey?" He replied, more out of habit than anything else.

"Let's go to sleep."

"We could do that."

Jarvis thoughtfully turned off all the lights but one, dimming the one over the door so that the room would still be slightly visible. Tony rolled his eyes; even his own AI was coddling him.

Two hours later however, still awake, Tony was glad that he could see Pepper's peaceful, sleeping form next to him. He wasn't sure if he'd been awake the entire time or if he'd been falling asleep for a few seconds at random intervals, but he was exhausted and disoriented, too anxious to sleep properly. He kept waiting to hear voices or footsteps, kept tensing in anticipation of the next blow which never came. The silence was driving him mad.

"Sir?" Jarvis inquired softly through the speaker next to the bed.

Tony jumped, suddenly aware that he was further from reality than he first thought.

"Yeah, Jarv?" He answered, voice a little strained.

"Is there anything I can do to assist with your ease of sleeping? A lower temperature, perhaps? More light? Some music?"

"No, no… I just…"

Tony's eyes darted around the room. He daren't move, but his mind was going too fast, to too many places at once.

"I just need some air. I'm… going to go outside."

He pushed the sheets off him and rolled onto his side.

"Sir, might I suggest that you ask Miss Potts for her aid?"

"Pepper needs to sleep. I can do this by myself."

The wheelchair was next to the bed where Pepper had left it, and Tony reached out and put his hands on the arm rests, slowly pulling himself out of the bed. His legs screamed in pain, and he had to clench his teeth to stop himself from doing the same. He almost lost it when he fell onto the floor, half in the wheelchair and half out of it. Tony took in a few heaving, sobbing breaths, resting his head on the seat as he reprimanded himself for coming up with the stupidest idea ever.

He eventually hauled himself into a sitting position, hunched over and breathing like he was suffocating.

"Sir." Jarvis said. "Are you –"

"Door." Tony gasped, straightening up.

The door opened with an electronic click and the hallway outside lit up. Tony gripped the wheels of his chair – easier said than done when his fingers were still splinted and bandaged, but somehow he did it – and manoeuvred his way around the bed and out of the room. He turned the corner and slowly and painfully made his way into the elevator and up to living room, immediately breathing easier upon reaching the open space.

The glass walls laid out New York City beneath him, The City That Never Sleeps... well, not sleeping. Never before had Tony felt like he was moving so slowly. Like life was passing him by while he struggled to catch up, getting all the while further away. This time last year he would have been still in his lab, tinkering with the suit or coding an upgrade. Or maybe getting wasted at a party, taking girls to back rooms or to his house with nothing more than a knowing look and a smile. But tonight… tonight he stared down until the lights faded to blackness.

-x-

Tony woke up because there was an irritating brightness beyond his eyelids. As he raised a hand to rub at his eyes, he realised that it was morning, and he was on the living room couch with a blanket over him.

"Good morning, Tony. I was just about to wake you."

Tony heard Pepper's high heels click against the floor as she left her handbag on the kitchen counter and came to stand in front of the couch, a glass of water in one hand and a bottle in the other.

"Your painkillers." She set them down on the coffee table. "There's French toast for you keeping warm in the oven. I'll try to come back for lunch, but if not, there's microwave pasta in the fridge and I've moved the microwave onto the counter so you can reach it. And for god's sake Tony, please call me if you need anything."

"I will." Tony said as convincingly as he could.

"You don't need me to…"

"Nope. Managed by myself last night, didn't I? I should be able to do it again."

Pepper looked like she was going to give him a piece of her mind about what she thought about his early morning escapades, but stopped herself at the last minute.

"Alright then, I'll go."

Jarvis held the elevator doors open as Pepper hurried back to the kitchen and put on lipstick using the oven door as a mirror, casting one last glance at Tony before leaving.

"Well." Tony said after propping himself up on an elbow and taking two pills with half the glass of water. "Fine day to stay on the couch, isn't it? I'm not that hungry anyway."

"Sir, you must eat." Jarvis said as reproachfully as a voice without emotion could.

"And I will, don't you worry. Just... later. I'm not hungry right now."

Tony had Jarvis pull up as much information as he could find on the Avengers, and made a note to devise a way to hack in SHIELD's systems. His robots arrived from California as he closed Captain America's file and opened Hawkeye's – everyone was sorted by codename; he'd found himself under Iron Man but there was nothing there everyone else didn't know already – and he got Jarvis to unpack them down in the lab and send Dummy up to make him lunch.

"I'm eating now, happy?" Tony mumbled through a mouthful of reheated French toast.

"That would be Mr Hogan, sir." Jarvis replied.

"Smartass."

-x-

"You know, I had the greatest idea while on the toilet today."

"Excuse me?"

Pepper came home at six, right in the middle of Tony and Jarvis' racing games marathon. Tony had a feeling that Jarvis was letting him win every second game, because he was being more of a graceful loser than usual. No matter, he was having fun and he wasn't about to ruin it with (not so) wild accusations.

"Today," Tony repeated, enunciating every syllable, "I had the greatest idea while on the toilet."

Pepper gave him a strange look.

"Okay." She said eventually. "I don't want to hear it."

"But it really is a great idea."

"And you can keep it to yourself, I'm sure. What do you want for dinner?"

"I was thinking we could renovate."

"I thought you were done renovating?"

"That was over six months ago! Everything's outdated now, and that won't do if I'm going to be living here."

"Well that's funny, because today _I_ was just thinking that it might be better for you to go home to Malibu. A bit of sun and sea is good for the health, you know?"

"I know the Helicarrier crashed."

And as if right on cue, the elevator doors opened to reveal Agent Coulson.

"You hacked into SHIELD's systems?" Pepper whispered, giving Tony an incredulous look.

"I tried, but they caught me. Not before I saw what happened to their precious Helicarrier, though. As we speak, I'm sure Jarvis has already found a new way to get in."

"Mr Stark."

"Phil!"

Coulson stepped out of the elevator, and the doors closed behind him.

"So how's it going? The last time you visited, you didn't mention that your flying ship fell out of the sky and landed on the beach. But it's not exactly a recent thing, so I'm just wondering why you'd keep something like that from me."

"It's none of your business."

"But it's been… what, two weeks now? It's not flying; it's not even on the water. Or did you guys just decide that chilling on the sand was a better vantage point than being in the air? I mean, SHIELD has hundreds of talented engineers, right? There's no way you're… you know, _stuck_." Tony gave a gasp of mock horror.

"We're working on it." Coulson said neutrally. "There are simply… other pressing matters to attend to."

"You need me."

"Stark, believe me when I say that we do not."

"You need me."

"Simple engine failure. We don't need you."

"You need me. But don't worry, I will be most gracious and forgiving when you come crawling back for my help."

"Stay out of this, Stark. You no longer have anything to do with the Avengers' Initiative, and judging by the director's reaction to this afternoon's little incident, keep it up and you won't have anything to do with SHIELD either."

And with that, Coulson turned and strode back to the elevator. Did the man ever _walk_ anywhere? You know, like a normal person? It was always striding with him. Tony supposed it rather suited him. A man of purpose.

"They need me." He said after the elevator took Coulson back downstairs.

"You need them to need you." Pepper corrected.

Ouch. That hit a little close to home.

* * *

We'll be seeing what the Avengers have been up to in the next chapter!


End file.
